


It Gets Better

by thestarwhowishes



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, I Tried
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 22:30:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20053582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarwhowishes/pseuds/thestarwhowishes
Summary: Rhys does something and Feyre's annoyed and embarrassed.





	It Gets Better

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt wonderlanddatemypancakes on Tumblr.

They have been living together for months now. They make out in the living room. Feyre's hands slide under Rhys'shirt. She pulls it above her his head. 

That's when she sees it. 

It's horrible. Hideous. The worst thing she's ever seen. 

Rhys smirks. She pulls away. 

“What in the ever-loving hell is that?” she says, murder in her eyes. 

“I believe, Feyre Darling, it's a tattoo.”

She gasps at him. Shuts her mouth. Lets out a almost-hysterical snort. And pulls away further. 

“How dare you?” 

The smirk on her boyfriends face subdues. Still, he leans close to her face. “You don't like it?” 

Feyre stares him down. “I hate it.”

“But you made it,” he purrs. 

She smacks him on the chest. “I told you I hated it. You know I hate it.”

It is a sketch she made a year ago. The first she made in a long time before that. And it turned out horrible. The worst thing she's ever drawn. Hell, even the things she painted at five were better. 

She hates it. Fervently. The likes of which she hasn't felt since she was fifteen, when her style was something really dreadful. 

Still, Feyre kept it. Because it meant a new start for her. A new life in which she was actually happy. With her family. And with Rhys. 

So she drew their eyes. It didn't go well. At all. 

She almost ripped the page off before she realized it was actually the first thing she drew after everything with Tamlin. So she kept, hidden between her endless notebooks and blocks and stuff. 

Until her snoop of a boyfriend saw it when she was cleaning up her painting studio. It was mortifying to let him see. But she explained and he listened. 

She should have known better than that. Rhys is obsessed with anything regarding her, and fine, it is kinda cute and amazing and perfect. But couldn't he just forget about the thing and not make it a big deal? 

Apparently no. 

“Feyre.”

“I hate it.”

Rhys stays silent for a little moment. Feyre slides her legs from under him and sits in the couch without looking at him. 

“I figured when you made it,” he says.

“That's because I told _you_.”

“It was the same day we told each other how we felt. That day in the cabin. When you told me about this, I thought about it for days. And it makes me so ridiculously happy that you drew our family. I'm glad you have them, you know?” 

“They met you first,” she snaps. 

“They like you better than me, believe me.” Her eyes flicker to him for a second before looking away again. “Even Amren. She would kick me in the balls if I hurt you.”

She forces down the smirk fighting its way to her lips. 

He scoots closer and nudges her with a knee. “It was the first time we kissed.”

“It wasn't.”

“It was the first time you meant it.”

“So you did it because you wanted to remember the first time we kissed. You're such a sap.”

Rhys chuckles. And she can't help but smile a little bit. His eyes shine. She's still embarrassed, but the anger melts. A little bit. Rhys will pay for this. 

She rolls her eyes. 

“I'm not mad,” Feyre says softly. “It's just—ugh. You're so fucking extra. It's ridiculous.”

“I know. That's why you love me.”

She glares at him from the corner of her eyes. “No. I only got any common sense stolen away.”

“Was it my dazzling looks that did it?” 

“Your humility, perhaps.”

Rhys laughs softly and places a featherlight kiss on her bare shoulder. 

“It means that it gets better.”

She turns her head to face him fully. His piercing gaze is on her, too many emotions in it. She wants to look away, but doesn't. 

“I admire you so much, Feyre. You are so unbelievable strong and resilient. You went to hell and back, and yet here you are. Still fierce and loving and caring. You still laugh and love. This reminds me that you can go through really dark, helpless places and still come out of it and smile after.” 

There's tears filling her eyes and running down her cheeks. God. This man. 

“It gets better,” she whispers. 

Rhys wipes her tears and smiles at her. It's the most beautiful thing she's seen. 

“It gets better.”

Their foreheads touch, the tip of their noses. Her eyes flutter close. And Feyre thinks thinks that she is so stupidly lucky to have this. 

“I still hate it, just so you know.” 

Rhys kisses her between her eyebrows. “I know.”

“But,” she goes on, “at least it's better than Mor sticks figures.”

Rhys throws his head back, basically roaring. Then he begins kissing her again. 


End file.
